Escape
by No Small Dream
Summary: Ethiriel and her brother Meldarion attempt to leave their old lives behind. Together they had battled tremendous pain and loss until they were given the chance to break away, for good. They lost everything worth holding onto, but just when ineffable sorrow appears to overcome them, hope-in the strangest of forms-grasps them, unwilling to let them escape. Legolas/OC
1. Chapter 1

Ethiriel was barely aware of the darkening world around her. Everything was blurry, and she couldn't walk straight. She wanted to fall to her knees and cry out to the treetops to make a gap between their leaves so she could see the stars. She wanted to cry out for nightfall, so the air would be cool. Stars were hope signified in glorious jewels embedded in the night sky.

Though she knew not why she had an attraction to the stars, she knew her brother shared the same wonderment as she did.

He limped along beside her, his jaw clenched and his eyes intense. His hair reached to his shoulders, and was a shining Jet black. At least, on a good day it was. They hadn't had a good day in ages. She didn't look much like him; she had her father's Golden hair. They both had the same deep grey eyes, pointed ears, and dependence on one another.

Together they struggled along the path they had come across, silently and fearfully.

Had the birds been chirping she would not have heard them. The amount of pure exhaustion took its toll on her as she pushed forth, with an unspoken determination to find a place to seek for shelter.

She imagined her brother, Meldarion felt ten times worse. His limp was making it hard to keep up, and the slower they walked, the more likely they were to run out of water and food. So she walked close to him to ease the guilt he was feeling at holding them back.

He was brave. Far braver than her, and wiser still. It was hard to look at him limp. For so long he has been her rock to cling to, and there he was, weaker than her, practically leaning on_ her_ shoulder.

They trudged slowly along a path they had found, stopping to let Meldarion catch his breath.

She paused for a second when a flash from the corner of her eyes blinded her momentarily. She squinted, moving forward to see what had reflected the light, for the sun was behind them, beating down on their backs.

With a small gasp she realized it was a sword she had glimpsed.

There were people here. Close to them.

"E-Ethiriel..."

She spun around, masking her hesitance with an unconvincing smile. "Do not worry yourself, stay here."

"No," he panted. "I feel...feel faint-" and she watched with wide eyes as he collapsed to the ground before her.

"Meldarion!" Immediately she rushed to his side, her heart crying out in despair. She had lost far too much; she could not bear it if she had lost him as well.

She dropped down to push him onto his back, and wiped the dirt off of his brow.

"Rest, Meldarion." She whispered. "It was foolish of me to keep you walking."

She sighed, watching him breathe for a few minutes.

Despair overcame her. She found herself trying to grasp the fact that they were both going to die out in the wilderness. No one would remember their names, they had forgotten long ago. They would be lucky if their bodies were found.

As this sunk in, she found herself sobbing into her brothers chest. There could be no hope for them.

They had lost so much, risked all they could, and in the end, death held on tightly, with an unrelenting grip upon the backs of their necks. The likelihood that a shining knight upon a steed would rescue them at that moment was one in a million.

Should she accept defeat so soon? It seemed logical, but it was selfish of her to give up without a fight.

As she cried into her brother's chest, the sobs wracked her body and suddenly everything felt _hopeless_. The amount of sorrow she was feeling was overwhelming. Her thoughts cycled to everything that had ever gone wrong in her life until it was unbearable.

Ethiriel stopped abruptly when she felt something cold press against her neck. Her breath hitched in her throat when she realized it was the blade of a sword.

Had they found them again? The two elves had left three days ago without a chase. There was no way they could catch up.

"I thought the elves do not easily fall ill..."

Through that one sentence she deduced two things: The stranger was male, and he was not an elf.

She clutched her brother tighter than before. "We are weak," she whispered, the touch of the blade the only thing her body was registering. "Even the bones of an elf can break."

"Yes, and so can their flesh be pierced..." She felt a small amount of pressure on her neck, and gasped loudly in fear.

"No!"

"Tell me, elf, why should I spare the likes of you? I'd rather put you out of your misery than leave you to die here. Consider it…a _mercy_."

She let out a desperate sob, scrambling closer to her brothers unconscious form. Her body shook violently and she almost had half a mind to end it all herself.

Ethiriel resorted to the one thing she knew how to do.

"No! Leave us be!" She begged the stranger through her tears, still not able to face him. "I'll do anything! If you shall harm me, at least save my brother!"

"Ha! _Pathetic_! Don't worry...it'll be nice and swift."

When Ethiriel felt the blade leave her neck she immediately twisted herself over to look at her captor.

He had his sword raised above his head, glinting in the sunlight menacingly. He was a delusional man, perhaps lost in the woods himself.

She screamed, much to his amusement. "My boss will be proud of me tonight, don't you think? Two dead elves...that would set a new record."

He brought the blade down swiftly, and she had no strength to comprehend it, nor dodge its future blow. Instead she watched as it came closer and closer towards her until she screamed once more, and squeezed her eyes shut.

The pain never came.

Her eyes hesitantly opened until she was no longer staring into the face of a living being. He was dead, and his blade fell to the ground, at her feet.

He crumpled beside it.

The world seemed darker; it spun slightly as the urge to cry overwhelmed her. She pushed it back, fighting against it.

She sat extremely still, waiting to catch her breath. She couldn't believe she was so close to death, and she had done nothing about it but watch. Ethiriel leaned forward to examine the lifeless body. A dagger stuck itself out of his back, the blood still spreading.

When she reached over to touch it, she heard a twig snap. Her head shot up. Of course the dagger had to have come from another person! She cursed herself for not thinking properly.

"Are you alright?" Out came a young man, holding both hands up to show he had no intention of hurting them. His voice was cautious, slightly nasally, but otherwise completely monotone.

She said nothing, eyeing him warily as he unsheathed his sword, looking for more villains. He found no one. The sword in his hand was lowered, but he clutched it as if it was an extension of his body.

Compared to him, she could already tell she was hopelessly under-armed; the only weapon she had was a club that she had snatched before they had fled.

The man posed no threat; still, she threw herself over her brother's chest to protect him and cried into his shoulder.

"Leave us alone!" She wailed. "My brother and I have not slept in three days since we escaped, his leg is hurt! Let him be! Let me be!"

"I mean you no harm." Came his calm voice. "Will you not speak with me?"

She only grasped her brother tighter, tensing when she felt a gentle hand rest upon her shoulder.

"I can help your brother, if you wish. It must be quick, I'm afraid, for we are traveling."

Ethiriel lifted her head when he mentioned the offer to help her brother. She looked at the stranger's feet crouching not too far from her.

His blue eyes examined her face, peering through locks of dark hair. He released her shoulder and stood.

"Come," he said, holding a hand out for her to take. "We will take you to Rivendell. There your brother will get the medical attention he needs, and there you will be among your people."

For a while, she was torn. How did she know this man wouldn't kill her or her brother? So far, she had no luck when it came to trusting the right people. She was also _exhausted_, Meldarion was unconscious. They were on the verge of death, regardless, so why not take a chance? She winced at how low she had stooped.

Hesitantly, Ethiriel accepted his outstretched arm, and he helped her up. As soon as she stood, the young man leaned over to pick up her brother.

"They call me Strider," he grunted, heaving her poor brother onto his shoulder. "May I inquire of your name?"

"Ethiriel."

"It means river. A nice name, fairly common for one of your kind. "

She looked confused as they headed for the man named Striders campground, ducking under a low tree branch.

He gave her an odd looking side-glance.

Seeing another intelligent being caused her head to throb. It had slipped her mind among the time she spent in captivity that she was an elf. It never mattered to her. In a land full of creatures of all kinds, she had not seen another elf in ages. Except for her brother.

Strider said nothing but continued on to a small clearing.

"Make a fire," he ordered to someone. "We have guests."

"Guests?" Came a heavily accented voice. "What do ya mean '_guests_?' Who is _that_?"

"This is Ethiriel, she will be joining us for the time being. Rivendell is only a few hours away by now."

"Well hello, strange woman!"

"Mind your manners, Pippin!"

"Oh, sorry."

She looked down at the two small men in front of them, feeling a little overwhelmed. Her head throbbed harder.

"H-Hello...?"

"I am Merry," one said. He had wavy hair, and a mischievous face. "This is Pippin," he gestured towards the other, with similar hair, waving emphatically at her.

"Now, what would ya like to eat?" Pippin stopped waving.

"Sam's out gathering wood, he'll cook you up something real nice," Merry added.

"We only really have a couple bites of sausage, bread, and chicken, so ya don't really have much of a choice."

"Gentlemen," Strider called. "A rag if you please."

The two scurried off, and she glanced worriedly at her older brother. Meldarion was paler than before, his breathing was steady, which reassured her.

There was a hand suddenly placed on the back of her neck. She jumped.

"Forgive me; he managed to mark you with his blade. I only wish to stop the blood from flowing."

She did not reply, out of fear, distrust, and confusion.

It was as if the moment he mentioned the wound it began to sting and throb, though it was nothing compared to her aching head.

Once the blood had stopped flowing, she silently refused his attempts to properly clean it. That was enough contact for a lifetime. It made her extremely uncomfortable.

"Your brother," he began, cleaning the blood off his hands. "Is a brave elf. He noticed the scoundrel before you, and tried to steer you away. But what of your story?" He stared at her intently, furrowing his brow as if trying to figure the two out.

When he received no answer, he tried his hand at prying it out of her.

"The scratches on your face suggest you were running, without a look behind you. You both appear underfed, under clothed,"—Ethiriel had no sense of dignity, and thus, did not blush—" and many scars adorn his body...he has a history of protecting you. From what?" He turned to look at her "Pedich Edhellon? (Do you understand me?)"

She nodded just barely enough for him to see.

"Perhaps it is too soon. Rivendell is near, after we eat, we will continue on."

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Your brother will last. He is strong." He reassured her politely, and gestured for her to sit by the campfire. The heat was the last thing she wanted, she wanted to dip herself into a river, ridding herself of the dirt and grime.

She could not see any nearby.

By the time another figure joined them, Ethiriel had about had it with the social interaction for the day. Granted, the chubby one had a wonderful personality, though he was very tense and muttered incoherently under his breath. Thanks to her strong hearing, she understood perfectly well.

She stood from her spot on the ground and went to check on Meldarion.

The color was coming back to him as he rested beneath the cool shade of the tree. He looked so at peace, unlike the provoking scenarios they had to endure over the years. No, it was like it never even happened. Once he woke up it would be a different story. He would worry, mourn, and try to mask it for her sake.

She couldn't let him do that. Not when she had almost lost him.

Sighing, she watched from a distance as the two shorter people tried to lift the chubby ones spirits up.

What were their names? She would learn them later. It didn't matter now. How long has it been since she had been in an elven city? She shook her head. "Too long..." She whispered to herself. What did home look like? Where was she from? She did not remember, and it broke her heart. Her brother would know, for his strength had always stemmed from the hope of going back. Ethiriel knew that as children, their father traveled a lot, Meldarion had told her on a particularly dark night in captivity.

She rubbed her hands on her face, welcoming the cool breeze that swiped her long hair over her shoulders. Her breathing steadied when she parted her lips and opted to listen to the crackling fire, clanging of cooking utensils, and the leaves swaying in the wind. Never before had she been so at peace.

She felt herself smile when she realized where she was.

Free.

She was free. Free from the torture of wondering if the next day would be her last. Free from the pain, anguish, and soulless tormentors.

For once she felt strong, and all at once her muscled relieved themselves of their tension.

She had not experienced this in ages. It felt wonderful. It felt surreal. She was in heaven for sure, and she didn't want to leave.

She had lived through a miracle.

Then, suddenly, she heard a small voice in her head, one of a child.

"_Ethiriel_," it said, and she jumped up to her feet, twisting her head all around.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched her, but she ignored them.

"Are you alright, Ethiriel?" Strider asked cautiously. He eyed her suspiciously, when she turned to face him with wild eyes.

"Did you hear it too?" She whimpered.

Strider clenched his jaw and straightened his neck.

Confirming her fears, he shook his head slowly. "I heard nothing. I do not have ears as strong as an elf. Tell me what you heard."

"The voice a child," she trembled. "Whispering my name."

"You know of this child?"

She stared at him blankly, and then at her palms. "Yes. He was my brother."

"Your brother is safe; I have tended his wounds to my best ability." Strider insisted.

"You're wrong..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is not Meldarion's voice I heard...It belonged to my youngest brother Glandur...he-he-" she found she could not finish her sentence, and she fell to her knees, crying. "Forgive me," she gasped through tears. "It has been too long since I have had the proper time to-to-" her face contorted, and she let out a sob. "_To mourn!"_

Strider dared not near the young elf, and when Sam, Merry, and Pippin rose from their spots, he held a hand out loosely that halted their actions.

He stared at the young girl with intense eyes, slowly letting his hand drop to his side.

"Whatever happened to you and your brother, is over. You may take your time mourning, but remember it is in your best interest to gather your strength. I promise to protect you two...you have my word. Does that help to ease your burdens?"

She only had the strength to nod, before a large bird swooped down from overhead unexpectedly.

Ethiriel yelped in surprise, hiding her face beneath her arms.

Had they found them? Would they kill their new acquaintances or take them too? There was a thud, and the flapping of wings.

She braved a glance up to find an old man holding himself up with a walking stick as he greeted Strider.

They talked for a few minutes, and she watched intently, honing in on every word.

"Gandalf!"

"Yes?" he squinted distractedly, then examined the small clearing "no, no, where _is_ he?"

"If it is Frodo whom you speak of, then he should be in Rivendell by now."

"What?" He scratched his head in frustration. "I said I would meet him in Bree at the Prancing Pony,"

"Where'd you go, Gandalf?" Asked Sam.

"I was regrettably delayed..." There was vagueness in his raspy, deep voice that implied betrayal. Even from far away, she could see it in his eyes.

Strider offered for him to sit on a rock, which the old man accepted gratefully. After a while of thinking, and a long awkward silence, the old man raised his head.

"What became of Frodo that he had to be rushed so quickly?"

Strider sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ring-wraiths."

"Ah... It is as I feared...this complicates circumstances entirely."

"What's that mean?" Voiced Pippin. "Frodo will be fine, won't he?"

"Do not worry yourself, Peregrin Took, we shall see soon enough."

That didn't seem to encourage anyone, and as they all became lost in their thoughts, Ethiriel felt herself drift farther and farther into sleep.

It felt like only five minutes later when she was being shaken.

"Ethiriel needs to eat. Has she awoken yet, Sam?"

She opened her eyes and stared up at the person she assumed to be Sam. He looked like the others, but his eyes were soft and brave.

"Hello," He smiled.

She burst into tears once again.

Sam jumped away, startled at her remorse. "I'm sorry!" He cried out. Then he drew near again, albeit hesitantly. "Please don't cry...I don't mean to _hurt_ you, I mean to _help_. Please...stop crying. I'm a hobbit of my word, an _honest_ hobbit!"

She tried to find it in herself to speak, but couldn't.

The small man smiled kindly, going to the fire.

"Elves suffer from terrible sorrow."

She gasped, her head shot towards the old man, Gandalf, who had just finished his own meal. He placed a small bowl down beside him and leaned back against a tree, staring into the flames.

"Do not let it overcome you. Your brother needs you."

"My brother?" Ethiriel whispered.

"Yes," Gandalf turned to look at her. "He is doing well, he will make it to Rivendell, and they will heal his wounds."

Sam came back to hand her stew, and she accepted it, for it warmed her hands. He then went to go sit with his two friends.

"What's a hobbit?" She asked Strider.

He stared at her, looking perturbed. "A halfling."

When he saw there was no recognition he continued.

"These three come from the Shire. Have you never heard of Hobbits?"

"If I had, I think I may have forgotten. It has been a long time since I had ever been home. I'm afraid I do not know what home looks like." As she said this, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and she prevented torrents of bitter rivers to flow freely down her face.

Strider said nothing. Just as he was about to offer his condolences, Sam turned and looked with sad eyes at the Ranger.

"Do you think," he began, "that Mr. Frodo will be okay?"

"He is in good hands. Frodo will pull through. Do not lose hope so soon." Gandalf replied.

Sam nodded tiredly. "You're right...it's just..." He teared up, eyes stinging with frustration. He slammed his fist onto the ground. "He's just _got_ to be okay! He's _got_ to!"

Merry and Pippin sat beside him sadly, no longer in the mood for stew.

"I'll save it for supper," Merry muttered.

"We've already had supper," Strider furrowed his brow, as if this conversation had come up one too many times.

"No, we had dinner. Supper is the_ last_ meal of the day," Explained Pippin. "After Breakfast, second breakfast, elvenses, lunch, and afternoon tea."

"Of course." He said dryly.

"Shall we get ready, gentlemen? It is not far."

"But what if it gets dark? Who knows what's out in these woods?"

"No." Sam said, packing quickly. "We have to be getting to Mr. Frodo."

Ethiriel rested as they gathered their things, watching Meldarion's chest rise and fall. It reminded her that he was alive. If only barely.

"Now, let us be on our way."

**A/N: Just an experiment! I appreciate constructive criticism! And I'm sorry if anything is inaccurate, I only recently became obsessed with it…thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **

**Glory Bee: Thank you for your feedback! I hope you enjoy this next one **

The last thing he remembered was a falling sensation, and his vision diminishing into a shadowy void all while trying to protect his sister one last time. It was one of the most horrifying instances he had been subjected to, even compared to the entire trauma he had ever experienced. It was akin to being in a dream, where you're incapable of communicating, moving, or responding. As if he was dead, and his soul had detached from his body, he was numb to all. He _knew_ there was a man about to attack, and his sister's persistent curiosity was escorting her directly to him.

He couldn't do anything about it.

He had actually watched her turn around when he called her name, and watched as the man snuck closer to them. He knew Ethiriel had managed to swipe him a club, but what good was it when he was barely conscious?

"I feel faint," was what he had said before he spontaneously blacked out.

Not "Look out!" Or "We're not alone." That would've been more effective. Through the alarms going off in his head, he couldn't register the nearness of his inevitable knockout.

While he was out, he had a dream.

He was talking to his sister, who was crying. She had a scar she had never had before, in the shape of a heart on her face. He comforted her, and was suddenly whisked away.

There was a line of blunt weapons lying upon a gnarled wooden table. He picked through them, and handed one to a young boy in front of him, making his heart pang with regret.

Then it was raining, with flashes of swords and axes. It was cold and his clothes were weighed down by the rain. Out of the corner of his eye, through the chaos, he saw someone fall to their knees in defeat. He screamed to them, there was a sharp pain in his chest, and then nothing.

That's when he woke up. For a while he didn't move. Instead, he let everything sink in.

His name was Meldarion. He had been traveling with his family at night when they were ambushed. Years later, rangers stormed the camp, and he took the opportunity to escape with his sister, Ethiriel. They ended up three days away before he passed out. He had a dream of what was to come, and now he had no idea where he was.

Except he did.

He was positive he had felt this way before. Meldarion moved his hands across the surface he was on. It was a bed, warm and comforting. There was no pain in his leg, and he flexed his toes to make sure he still had them. Then he opened his eyes slowly, thankful it was evening so his eyes didn't have to adjust to daylight.

He heard nature, from running water, to gentle late afternoon breezes. Chirps, twitters, peeps, and chirrups resounded about him. If the birds were still singing, then he was alive and well.

He felt odd, almost...relaxed, the same way he had felt before his captivity, he realized, and with a sigh he knew that, for once, everything was all right.

"So you're finally awake."

Meldarion tensed again, bolting upright.

"It was almost impossible to get rid of your sister, she's _extremely_ passionate."

He found himself glaring murderously at the speaker, a small growl forming in his throat. "How dare you..." He snarled. "What have you done to Ethiriel?!"

The speaker, an old man, looked offended, but only for a moment. "Don't be foolish! Jumping to conclusions so easily leads only to trouble! If you had thought before you assumed, you'd have known that it was simply a poor choice in words!"

Meldarion wasn't sure what to say after being scolded, he leaned back against the wall and eyed the old man suspiciously. If it was a fight this old fool wanted, it was a fight he would get.

"Now," the old man fixed him with a serious look, watching as the indignation on Meldarion's face slowly ebbed away. "What I mean to say is, she neglects her own health before yours. She would not leave your side for anything."

Meldarion narrowed his eyes. "Then why is she not here now?"

"She is asleep. Carried to her own room."

"What is your name, old man? Since I am shrouded with uncertainties, you owe me at least a name."

"I owe you nothing. It is but common courtesy to distribute names."

"Pardon, I was unaware that courtesy exists among wicked men."

"Wicked? Had it not been for my companions, you would not be speaking to me now, Meldarion! Do not think so low of me already; I am not a wicked man."

"How am I to know?" Meldarion protested softly, not bothering to wonder how the old man knew his name. "In an unfamiliar city, with people I never knew. I've not seen another elf in so long. Men, however," Meldarion's voice took on a bitter tone "I know well enough."

The man cleared his throat and leaned on a staff Meldarion hadn't noticed before. "You may call me Gandalf. The trials you have faced...more or less have come to pass. For all it's worth, you and your sister are safe here."

"Where are we?" He was still suspicious of Gandalf, and of where he was. Beauty can often be deceiving, he reflected, as he skeptically admired the beautiful white room.

"Rivendell." Gandalf watched him for a moment, then realized that Meldarions stare would not hinder for anything. "I suggest you get up to test your strength. It is almost time for dinner."

Meldarion still did not falter his gaze, even when Gandalf moved to light his pipe.

"I want to see my sister."

Gandalf squinted at him "She is sleeping, and needs rest. You on the other hand, have had enough rest to sustain three grown men."

"I don't care!" He protested. "I only want to see her! I only..." Meldarion trailed off. The anger in his face dissipated to regret. What he _wanted_ was to believe Gandalf when he said that both he and his sister were safe. Meldarion's dream, on the other hand, had shown otherwise. Bad things were going to happen, and they were going to be tied right into it.

Gandalf arose from his chair, furrowed his brow, and walked to the doors.

"Well?" He said.

Meldarion eased out of his bed and tested out his leg. Surprisingly, there wasn't much pain, and walking on it was easy. He eyed Gandalf uncertainly as he led the way outside, and across beautiful pathways (painstakingly, for birds often stopped to perch on his staff. They seemed as though they told him things, which Meldarion quickly dismissed as ridiculous).

He reminded Meldarion of someone, and it made him frustrated that he could not remember. One of the very things that often endangered his family was his brilliant memory. It stretched so far that he could remember the scene, and not just still pictures in his head. Although, he wasn't that lucky, because it often triggered a sort of flashback, something as small as a smell could set him off. Here was someone he could _see _and _hear_ well enough to pick him out of a memory tucked away in his head, yet nothing had happened.

For once, this upset him.

When they had finally reached another small cylindrical building, Gandalf stopped directly in front of it. Meldarion, however, pressed on ahead, barging into the room.

Ethiriel was not there. He growled in frustration, turning about the room.

"Can I help you?"

Meldarion almost jumped. He hadn't noticed the small human sitting at a desk in the far corner.

The elf watched as the smaller one scowled at him, hiding something beneath his shirt. His piercing eyes examined Meldarion with morbid curiosity.

The elf almost scoffed. Whatever this small one was hiding, it didn't matter to Meldarion.

"I am in search of my sister."

"Well, she is not here. You have the wrong place."

Meldarion raised an eyebrow at the forceful tone in his voice. Was this small thing asking for a challenge? This time Meldarion did scoff.

"Clearly."

The smaller one furrowed his brow.

"Ah, Frodo! Here you are!"

"Gandalf? What's going on?"

"Nothing that concerns you, don't worry yourself. Is Lithônion here?"

"He just left to fetch more water."

"I see...I will have to catch him on a later note then. In the meantime, we should be going, Frodo, we need to discuss important matters."

Gandalf turned toward Meldarion. "As for you, Meldarion. Wait here for Lithônion to return. He will show you to your sister. Come along, Frodo!"

"But, Gandalf..." Frodo glanced at Meldarion in protest. "You trust him alone?"

"I trust that he has two sharp ears on his head! Now Come."

Frodo sent Meldarion one last wary look before shrugging in acceptance. "Well, I suppose a friend of Gandalf is a friend of mine."

Meldarion snorted, but Gandalf slammed the door shut before the elf could correct Frodo.

Meldarion sat in the chair Frodo previously occupied. Putting his head in his hands and sighing, he realized that this was starting to become too much for him. His head was aching, because everywhere he turned caused his brain to try and force a flashback on him. Meldarion was doing a pretty good job at fighting it, too. However, he didn't know how long he could keep at it. At least he finally had peace and quiet. Then it finally occurred to Meldarion that he was by himself, and his heart skipped a beat.

In all of the years in captivity, he had never truly been by himself. _Alone_. The very idea of being the only person in an empty room stressed him out, and he stood to pace the area.

He felt blind to all around him. The high ceiling decorated with golden designs was just intolerable to him, as was the ornate vase on the desk. It was his restlessness that made the beauty around him dim.

Luckily for Meldarion, the door opened not much sooner than Gandalf and Frodo left.

Another elf walked in, with a bucket of water in one hand, and a scroll in the other. When he saw Meldarion he paused to carefully place the objects on the table, as if Meldarion might throw a fit if he had done it too haphazardly.

"Mae govannen." The other elf uttered warily

"You are Lithônion?"

The more refined elf looked taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. "You must be one of the lost elves." Lithônion deadpanned. "Whether you come from Rivendell or not, you are still welcome among your people. I am sorry for the losses you have gone through."

It was Meldarion's turn to be taken aback, and he found he could not respond.

"I will take you to your sister; she is at the market, waiting for you."

Meldarion nodded as Lithônion led the way out of the house and further down to the market.

When they arrived, Ethiriel was easily picked out compared to everyone there.

Meldarion knew her walk well enough, as she was less sophisticated in the way she carried herself.

He advanced towards her immediately. "Ethiriel," he called.

She turned around and greeted him with a large smile. "Meldarion! Thank goodness! You have no idea—I thought you were—no, it doesn't matter..." She hugged him tightly. "I'm _so_ glad you're okay." She whispered.

Meldarion patted her back, suddenly aware of how close they were to never seeing each other again. Disturbed, he chose not to speak, or bring that to attention. She probably knew anyway. Still, he didn't like bringing emotional subjects up, because they made him uncomfortable. Put a sword in his hand and he'd be okay. Put him in a sentimental situation, and suddenly his mind went blank.

Ethiriel let go, her eyes brimming with tears.

Meldarion felt a pang in his heart. Sometimes he wished he could show his emotions as well as his sister, instead of coming across as careless. He found he couldn't cry in most situations, maybe because he stored it away, and released it on the battle grounds.

"Why are you here?" Meldarion asked, as his sister wiped at her eyes.

"When I woke up, they told me you were looking for me. A kind woman led me here to wait for you."

Meldarion frowned. "They seem to have a very sharp eye on us..." He muttered, looking around. Lithônion had left as soon as he had made it to the market.

"Maybe they're worried." She shrugged. "They have been nothing but kind towards me since I have been here."

"Regardless, I do not find comfort at this place."

Ethiriel sighed heavily, indicating over to a nearby bench so they could sit. She looked sad for a moment, sitting slowly, as if unsure if it was the right thing to do. Then she hugged herself.

"I think," she began, and Meldarion listened as they both sat back. "That no matter what we do, we will never find home."

Meldarion let this sink in, rubbing his hands across his forehead.

"Living here would do us more harm than good. For even though we may have been freed of our bonds..."

Meldarion nodded, working out what she was trying to get across. "We have not really escaped, have we?"

"No." Her eyes glittered again, and she whispered "I still hear him."

He felt like he had been punched. "G-Gland-"

Her nodding cut him off. Meldarion's face contorted in sorrow, and Ethiriel hugged herself closer.

"It's not fair..." She turned to him, eyeing his face for a form of reassurance. "That he had to die so young."

He could say nothing out of comfort, not that it mattered. She was speaking the thoughts they haven't discussed in a long time.

"It appears that fairness avoids our cries for help. Yet, here we are...saved from the hands of death and under the wing of refuge. We must serve a purpose to someone, _somewhere_, though I fear we must endure hardships."

She smiled to herself, And Meldarion scratched at his head. He was getting extremely sappy. He just wanted her safe and content, as she was the last of his family, and his own well-being was beyond his control.

"I suppose we should make the most of it while we are here." She said softly.

Meldarion agreed indifferently. That wasn't exactly the point he was trying to get across but as long as she knew that there was more to come for the two of them, then he digressed.

"Which brings to my memory something I noticed quite earlier today, on the way to this market." She grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a small jewelry table.

"Ethiriel—"

"Look at this circlet! This stone here—in the middle—" she pointed to a dark purplish stone in the center of the circlet gently "—is called a star sapphire. When the light hits it, a star appears," she smiled at him broadly "it's fine symbolism, don't you think, Meldarion?"

He gave her the satisfaction of nodding in agreement before zoning out her endless chattering about "pretty stones" and "lovely flowery metal". Ethiriel rattled on, oblivious to the fact that her older brother wasn't listening. She was trying to distract him, to put their minds at ease. Normally he wouldn't have minded, if it were not for the fact they were being watched.

It was a small suspicion at first, a simple tingle on the back of his neck. A glance behind him proved the small suspicion right, and he was immediately in guard mode, with his blood pumping, and his senses heightened. Though he did not disrupt his composure, Meldarion searched the area for the perpetrator, immediately thinking back to his helplessness the last time they were being watched.

There was no way anything bad was happening this time around.

Suddenly Ethiriel stopped talking all at once.

Alarmed, Meldarion spun his head around to see that she was not only looking at the man watching them, but walking towards him too.

"Ethiriel?"

"It's all right, he's a friend. He's a hero."

Though confused, he followed until they stood side by side before the man.

"Good evening, Strider." Ethiriel offered up a shy smile.

Strider nodded to both elves. "Good evening. So this is your famous brother?" He indicated to Meldarion, who's face remained steadfast.

"I am. What business do you have with us?"

"Meldarion!"

Strider held a hand up to reassure Ethiriel. "It's all right." The man turned back to Meldarion and blinked "It is I who led your sister from danger. I witnessed your fight for consciousness, and upon noticing the villain, slew him where he stood."

"He carried you to the camp, and helped clean our wounds!"

Strider smiled lightly at Ethiriel, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "Had it been anyone in my position, they would've done the same."

"I'll have you know, then," Meldarion spoke darkly. "That I know of many men who would not do such a deed. We are in your debt."

"I must convince you otherwise. If I went about collecting debts for saving lives, would the deed be as endearing? You owe me nothing."

Ethiriel looked disappointed when he said that, and Meldarion nodded again.

"You have our deepest gratitude. If there was ever a way for us to help you, I insist it be done."

Strider eyed the two elves carefully. "Ethiriel, now that your brother is awake, I believe you two should speak with Elrond."

Ethiriel lowered her head in submission, a habit formed through the years in captivity. Meldarion narrowed his eyes when her grip tightened on his arm. She did not know how to express her feelings properly, and could only bite her lip in response. He placed a comforting hand upon hers.

Strider then turned to speak with Meldarion, but raised his eyebrows in surprise. He examined the scars adorning Meldarion's face, now that they were visible on his freshly clean skin.

Meldarion noticed Strider himself seemed to have seen much in his lifetime. His eyes held an untold story, an intimidating mystery, and a wise kingly shine.

Meldarion felt belittled in his presence, and maybe even a pang of jealousy.

"Elrond," he explained. "Is The Lord of Rivendell, he oversees the elves. He wishes to hear your story. I assure you he can be trusted."

Ethiriel looked worried, looking around as if something would pop out any moment.

"I will accompany my sister, then."

"I believe it is best for her to express her own—"

"Where is Elrond?"

Striders eyes hardened. He did not argue, but gave Meldarion a disappointed glare.

"This way." He replied shortly, and walked around the two.

Meldarion and Ethiriel exchanged glances, silently wishing each other encouragement. Together, like they always had been, they took a step.

It was as if that at that moment, something fell into place and Meldarion wondered if Ethiriel felt it to. Had he made the right decision? Even knowing what the future could hold for them?

Or was he just digging their own graves?

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It will be an alternating POV between her and her brother. Sorry if it was boring, but I wanted to take the time to settle them into a situation that they had never been in before. I have plans, so don't worry! Thank you for reading! **

**Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged! *hint hint* **

**XD **


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